Fading

Sensitive Content warning: This story addresses Anorexia.

I sigh. I lift a piece of cucumber to my lips; some watery fluid runs down my lips. I try not to lick, not wanting any of it in my mouth. I look in the mirror, slowly pulling up my tights. My eyes look shiny and huge. I have big eyes and I like them. My mum just said yesterday that they now look bigger than my face. I disagree. My cheeks remind me of chipmunks. They look round and filled. My hand touches over one side. I squeeze gently to see, where they are too big.

Oh, I almost lost balance there, as the other hand is still pulling on the black woollen tights. They cover the cotton tights underneath. I need both hands to balance me and to finish the job. Here we are, tights on. I look in the mirror again. I turn slightly to see myself in another angle. The tights make me look even bigger.

 I sigh and almost swallow the piece of cucumber still stuck between my lips. I gently move it into my mouth. I do it slowly. I read, that food needs to be eaten consciously to really enjoy the taste. I do cook a lot and I am always happy when people eat what I serve them. Some eat even more than just one portion. I always serve loads and a good variety. I like watching people fill themselves without any worries. I love the smell of different foods and touch of ingredients. My hands pull out a bra.

Today is a special day, so I choose my special bra. It has some extra framing I actually created myself. I added it to the original wires. It gives the look more shape, and extra weight. I am quite proud of this creation. My friend Tania already asked me to do it for her bra too. It would be fair of me to share the construct with her as she provided me with her genius idea of inserting Kegel balls. I involuntary move my legs to feel them. I found some that weigh  93 grams. I do like the idea of a tight vagina. Even though, nobody would get the benefit of that for now. I have no sexual desires. I might be asexual for all I know. I look at myself, remembering some encounters from when I was more impulsive and careless, then shake my head slowly. I am more in control now and that feels good.

My hands are carefully stroking along the bra wires. My breasts are small. Smaller now than before, something to do with me being sportier. After the bra sits perfectly in place I top it with a sports bra. I don’t like people to even see the outlines of the other bra. I like it smoother. I look in the mirror again. A little burst of pride frizzles through my body. The sports bra covers the upper part of my body perfectly and its black thick material is not showing and wires underneath. I turn again to see myself from the back.

 I have multiple mirrors in my room, and I know how to use them. My parents tried to take them, as they were worries, I was too vain. But really? Looking after yourself is not vain. My tongue pushes the cucumber piece into the other side of my mouth. I swallow a little of the taste. When looking at my back I see a twist in my side. A roll of skin, that slides along my side. I add some extra side crunches in my mental workout list. I worked out in the morning and in the evening, mostly when my family was asleep, as they didn’t like the noise, when I do it. I now put a thick blanket on the floor and a mat, so they won’t hear me. My mother usually tries to stop me, when she catches me doing my jumping jacks, 50, and mountain climbers, also 50, repeating both twice before moving on to push ups and sit ups.  I do not work out lightly I think proudly to myself, and I am disciplined. The rest of my family does not do much for themselves and you can see that in their appearance. They also don’t understand if I prefer to walk instead of taking the car anywhere. Even if I need some breaks at times. I always recover and walk on. Mind over matter, right? Anyway, the extra exercises for the love handles are on my mental list for tonight. I grin bitterly. Only a fat person could have come up with the term love handle. I, for one, didn’t love them at all. I shrug and grab a vest and a long-armed t-shirt to put on. Like my one set of tights, the one hidden under the other, the vest has little metal plates sewn on, thin and not visible, as they are attached to the inside. I like the touch of them. If anyone says anything about them, then I will just act surprised. They help me to calm down on days like today. Like others need a teddy bear or a weighted blanket. I laugh. How I wish I could take a weighted blanket with me. Days like today made me aware of so many things.

One of my teeth accidently grinds the piece of cucumber, which has softened quite a bit by now. I shudder not liking the sensation. I look at the clock. I have still 6 minutes to go. I need to hurry. My movements are a bit slower lately. I think I have too much on my mind. I put a long skirt on and grab a jumper, quickly considering if I add an extra layer on top, maybe a blouse? My brain can’t decide if it would be an advantage or disadvantage. Maybe too much and they would make me take too much off. I stick with my original chosen set of clothes. I put socks on, but I know I will have to take them off later anyway. That’s Tania’s fault, as she was caught with something in her socks. I roll my eyes. My big, huge eyes, that are looking at me from the mirror. I am happy that I am dressed now, as I can’t see my curves and imperfections anymore.

 I grab the brush and start brushing slowly. My hair fall has become quite bad. I am sure it is the season. Summer is for shedding, right? Me and the dog are as bad as each other, leaving a trail of hair behind us. My father brought it up, wondering if I am not worried. I laughed it off. I see my hand and my fingers; my nails do look a little brittle. I guess, I need to use more hand cream. I plaster some layers of foundation on, trying to smoother my face with it. Thick mascara and eye shadow is followed by lipstick. I am looking for my hairband, the hairband for the special day. I made it myself too. I opened a good old scrunchie and added some wire and small metal pieces. Two rounds. I grin. I loved how I managed to add some grams. It was their fault, as they made such an issue about every single gram. I wouldn’t need to add some weight, if they would see what I see. The scale lies. It is all about how you feel, -and you read your body.  They threaten to put me in stationary care again if I lose more weight. They do not look at me like I do. They cannot see what I see.  

Lucky, my mum left her calendar out marking surprise weighing days at the clinic. My face is serious again and I feel a bit dizzy. I had eaten a spoon more than I usually do and I knew I had to work it off later, but for now, it was me against the scale. But I was winning. I spit the cucumber -out as my mum calls me, “Lucy, we are off to your meeting at the clinic.”  I hear her whisper to my dad, “she looks like she is fading away even in all her clothes.”

I move to the door, feeling heavy. I am heavy. Why can’t they see it?